


Aftermath

by upquarkAO3



Series: Random Dross from Season Two [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 'sleeping with a demon' can mean more than one thing., Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8420761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upquarkAO3/pseuds/upquarkAO3
Summary: A tiny little sorta comforting flicker stemming from the pic release of Maze and Trix sleeping on the couch in the newly-minted Chez Chlaze. It’s likely not how it’s gonna go down, but last week’s ep was a bit harsh to say the least and it’s likely S2Ep6 won’t be all sweetness and light, either so….





	

 

[ - ]

In the dim watches of the false LA dawn she climbed the new stairs and unlocked the new door. Locks. As if **she** needed them, but not so for the fragility inside. The antiseptic streetlights felt cold, as they’d ever been to her hot blood. So unlike Hell, well – in many places. And colder now under the mantle of tonight’s events.

She’d helped him as she always had. As she probably always would in some way, altering relationship notwithstanding.

But for right now he was beyond her ability to help any further. She hoped not his own, but…

“If you’d only…when I told you….you **never** listen when you should….”

She gritted her sharp teeth, shaking off the introspection. It was uncomfortable and vague. And she didn’t do ‘vague’. Not easily. Not willingly.

Maze was fire and brimstone, passion and fury. Action. Righteous wrath. Occasional tendriling subterfuge eventually crumbling the deceptive concrete strength of her enemies. Creating furtive seeps allowing her liquid influence in, she could then freeze, expand and crack adversarial foundations from the inside out. No, she was no one-note. No one-trick. Intelligent resilience she was. But tonight she was troubled, deeply and unwelcomely.

This latent (ugh) _feeling_ was not something to fight; not something she could face head-on as she usually had. Not with the current weapons in her arsenal anyway, vast though it might be.

She stepped over the threshold, barely acknowledging that it was symbolic as well as physical. She’d been worn enough tonight, and knew that her strength would be required further in the coming days (perhaps much more, though in a different manner).

The demon wasn’t looking forward to that.

Still, she’d tried. After the aftermath in the church and the pain following as they cleaned up the mess together she’d let him go as he asked. He’d wanted to tell their mother himself. By himself. No Amenadiel ( that  was going to be horrible). No her. Just him and that…creature. All  her  fault this was. This vindictive, acidic reason for the further destruction of Lucifer. Yes, that farce of a mother – HER fault. All of it.

Still, she’d asked. It was her long role. More than that, her wish for her friend. Yes, apparently demons did have friends. At least this one did even if said friends (yes, plural as well) were confusing. To her and themselves alike.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Maze. Go. I’ll deal with this in my own way.”

She wasn’t entirely sure of two things: the first that he could, and the second…more disturbing…that he would. Effectively anyway.

Finding herself repeating the ‘of you’d only…’ mantra as she stepped wearily around the packing boxes still littering the living room, too worn through to even try to dig out a tumbler and bottle from the debris of tepid domesticity. Missing the easy convenience of debauchery at Lux just a little more sharply at the moment. She sighed to herself and angrily tried to shake off the bone-weary despair and indecision that indicated.

She was stronger than this.  She was . Just not right this very second, maybe. Whatever.

Maze shoved some of Trixie’s toys to one end and flopped down on the couch, arms stretched along the back and long legs crossed at her ankles in front. Tipping her head back to stare blankly at the darkness she knew of Heaven through their skylights she did not hear the child at first. And then it happened. Sort of.

“I said, ‘Are you okay, Maze?’” was Trixie’s response to her hiss of **_‘what?”_ **

The little girl had paused at the end of the hallway, looking into the room. Frozen where she wasn’t sure what she’d seen in the dim gleam of light. Maze had snapped her head up as she came in and it almost looked like she was smiling. More on one side of her face than the other, but her voice wasn’t happy. No, not at all. Then it passed. Not being a fan of intense introspection either, Trixie simply rubbed off some of the sleep clouding her eyes as she walked slowly toward the couch. Her friend looked…not okay, which was why she’d asked.

“Why are you awake? It’s late.” Maze hoped not too late, knowing that had nothing to do with the time of night it was.

“It’s weird being here. Too new. Different noises than Nana’s or Daddy’s. I’m still getting used to it, so…besides.”

“Besides what?” Maze was simultaneously annoyed at having to deal with _one more damn thing_ tonight and happy for the distraction _from one more damn thing_ tonight.

Trixie screwed her face up in that determined half-scrunch she had when she was trying to get a strong point across. It usually made Maze laugh. Under the heavy burden of the evening she did not aloud, but felt a lightness come over her nonetheless. The little girl was right. Weird this was. Too new. Whatever. If the demon wasn’t going to deal further with fundamental shifts tonight she certainly wasn’t going to be bothered much with small ones either. “I’m waiting, kid.”

“It was always harder for me to get to sleep when Mommy or Daddy weren’t home yet.”

“So?”

“So….now **this** is home, I guess. Or one of them…” Maze did chuckle to herself here: she understood exactly Trixie’s difficulty in navigation to the adjustment of her perception of ‘what home was’.

“Yeah?”

“And you’re part of my home, now. And you weren’t back yet. I didn’t know if you were okay.”

The simple words of the child opened up wells of depth Maze didn’t know she had. And didn’t want to. Not yet. Not tonight. She sighed, running her hands over her face and letting her true form show briefly under the cover of the knitted bones. “I keep late hours sometimes, kid. Got a strange life. Your mom would maim both of us if she knew you were going to make a habit out of waiting up, and a petulant Decker isn’t really something I want to deal with. She’s enough as she is already.”

“Okay. I won’t tell her.” Maze cleared her face and dropped her hands, meeting Trixie’s conspiring smile. Oh, maybe she’d laugh once this night after all. Shaking her head she just smirked and muttered, “Sure you’re not adopted or something?”

Trixie let her smile break into a grin to see her friend relaxing a bit, then asked her question again, eight-year-old concern evident at the weary reply. She might be ‘just a kid’, but she had parents in a rough job and had been recently been through a scary experience herself. Young didn’t mean stupid.

“No…I’m not really okay. Not right this second. But I will be, all right? So stop with the face and go back to bed before your mom wakes up and punishes us both. Or tries.” She _might_ try; not that it would mean much for Maze. The detective _was_ simply human albeit an odd one…right?

Listening through the relatively thin walls of her bedroom (…god help her if Maze started bringing in overnight guests….now THERE was an unwelcome discussion on the horizon…) Chloe grinned herself. Sensitive as she was to her daughter and still acclimating to new surroundings herself she’d snapped instantly awake when she’d heard Trix’s door open and everything after. She’d let them alone, knowing whatever the ‘new normal’ was going to be it also meant Maze and Trix would be developing whatever passed for an appropriate relationship between a wickedly cunning out-of-work-bar-and Lucifer-tender and her daughter. And so far…this was more benign than she’d expected.

“Okay, Maze.” Trixie half-turned away, paused, then turned back.

“What now?”

“I can help. If you let me.” Something about the way she said it; the complete confidence in her limited abilities made the demon take notice. It was the way she felt about herself sometimes: she wasn’t powerful in the same ways as a true celestial being was or even an angel…but she was still a remarkable force to be reckoned with in her own right. Trixie clearly claimed herself the same way, even if Maze knew full well tonight’s events were beyond the pale in for any of them. Still, she admired the effort. And appreciated it as well, although it was difficult to not want to close off all those new depths immediately. Especially tonight.

“Really.”

“Yeah. Wait there! I’ll be right back.” With that, the little girl dashed silently back down the hallway as Maze let her first real smile in hours slowly curl the lurking devastation on one side of her mouth. If nothing else, this new living situation would be interesting…probably on more levels than she’d expected. Much like experiences on this entire plane had been so far for good OR ill. Glad of the distraction, she allowed herself to relax back into the cushions and waited to see what the little imp would come up with. The delay wasn’t long.

Trixie clambered up beside her on the couch and with all the unconscious bravado with which she’d always accosted Lucifer cuddled into Maze’s side with her treasure. The demon, shocked at the simple feeling of unexpected camaraderie gruffly asked. “Well? What’s that?”

“A book. My favorite. Mom always reads it to me when I’m upset.”

“ **I’m** not upset.”

Trixie shot her a knowing look from under a slightly smirky eyebrow. Maze nearly blanched at how it looked like one of Lucifer’s expressions. Maybe the child  was  hanging out with them too much for her own good. ‘Whatever. You’re already here, so…go on if you must.”

“If you insist.” Maze cracked a grin at the grown-up expression of both words and sarcasm. The little girl was an unexpected treat here and a source of constant surprise. For once, good ones.

The two settled in together, both soothed by the randomness of this solace both unexpectedly needed. To receive as well as to give. Although Trixie’s words were halting sometimes (this was not the easiest book for her reading level), her good intentions were not and both started to fall under the spell of the words and companionship.

Eventually they fell into sleep as well, curled together on the messy couch, in the messy room in a transient oasis of the chaos waiting. But no familiarity of violence here. Not now.

Chloe waited until the silence in the other room had stretched out for a time and rose slowly, avoiding the squeaky spot just inside the door so as not to disturb whatever comfort had been given and received. Knowing both went both ways: especially after her outburst the other day the mother in her knew how Trixie needed to gain some small control over her life with action and was so pleased that her daughter was doing it this way. Helping a friend.

‘Some friend, though.’ She smiled, arms crossed and leaning her shoulder in the hallway’s entrance, light of Heaven shining softly on her tousled hair and the sleeping duo through the glass above. A seemingly impenetrable barrier yes, but light could always find a way to shine, dim though it might be. She did not think of this, but some things just **were** whether consciously thought of or not. Chloe scooped a fluffy throw from the pile near the couch and gently drew it over her daughter and her…Maze.

Maze. Her other mystery. Thorn in her side? Bafflement? Maybe, truly…her friend? Someday, perhaps.

But for now Chloe tucked them both in, neither sleeper the wiser though Trixie was always subconsciously aware of having strong comfort where Maze had never.

And that was okay, too. Change was good sometimes. Chloe smiled to herself on this last thought, taking herself back to bed for the last gasp before another day’s work.

Elsewhere, one struggled with changes wrought by his own hand. And it was not. Not good. Not at all.

And the long companion of this violence directed at himself was all too familiar, despite the recent respites he’d found.

Short-lived.

As others intended for forever had been. And might yet be.

_‘oh Father…’_

_‘…what have I done?’_

_‘And what will you do now to me?’_

_..._

And more, what didn't he want done? What punishment didn't he deserve for this?


End file.
